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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754475">Kitchen Ballroom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam'>incorrectbatfam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:42:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754475</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart turned his head and placed a soft kiss on Jaime’s lips. The older one closed his eyes to drink it all in, only for it to end abruptly by another fistful of flour on his clothes.</p><p>Jaime gasped in mock offense. “No fair, you used my weakness against me!”</p><p>“All’s fair in love and war, babe,” Bart teased.</p><p>“In that case…” Jaime grabbed another handful of flour and threw it at his boyfriend. “Take that!”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kitchen Ballroom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to @bisexualoftheblade for beta-reading</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of metal clanging was not something Jaime expected to wake up to. Granted, there could’ve been a perfectly good explanation, namely that his boyfriend wanted to try to cook for the third day in a row. But then there was the loud sound of something falling followed by cursing, and that prompted Jaime to throw on a shirt and see what the commotion was about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their tiny apartment kitchenette, he was met with the sight of Bart wearing nothing but boxer shorts, bunny slippers, and Jaime’s favorite t-shirt. The speedster fumbled with a pile of baking trays and dry measuring cups on the floor. Jaime was perplexed, to say the least. Why did Bart have a bunch of baking supplies out at eight in the morning? Ingredients lined the countertop, leaving almost no space for the mixing bowl hanging precariously close to the edge. A radio played softly from the corner it was plugged in. Jaime moved the bowl to a safer spot first before crouching down to help his partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, did I wake you?” Bart asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime placed the tools on a nearby table before placing a peck on Bart’s lips. “Yeah, electric mixers are kinda hard to miss. Don’t worry, I slept plenty.” He pointed to the kitchen. “What’cha making there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>amor</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t miss the blush that appeared on Bart’s cheeks every time he used that pet name, even though they’d been dating since the latter was eighteen, throughout college and now in their mid-twenties. It was one of those things that withstood the test of time, just like them</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chocolate cake,” answered Bart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime raised an eyebrow. “For breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” he said. “We’re adults, we can do whatever we want. There’s no rule against it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older one chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Bart’s waist from behind and took in the natural scent that someone could only have on a lazy Sunday morning. None of the aftershave or cologne required by work, nor the gritty blood and sweat from a hard-fought battle. It was peaceful, pure. Jaime turned his head and placed a kiss on Bart’s jawline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what say we bake it together then?” Jaime suggested. “Can’t promise I’ll be any good, though. You’re the expert on sweet things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, your flirting skills are on point. I haven’t even started yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I don’t wanna miss a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even five minutes in did it dawn on Jaime that neither of them knew what they were doing. So far they grossly overestimated how much flour they needed and Bart was about to add half a dozen eggs. Jaime didn’t know what was right, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cariño</span>
  </em>
  <span>, can I take a look at the recipe?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The speedster stopped. “Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bart, please tell me there’s a recipe,” Jaime begged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think we needed one,” Bart said. “It looked easy enough on the Food Network.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime left the room and returned with his laptop open to the easiest recipe on the internet. “Here, we can follow this,” he said. “I think we need to remove some of the flour. And we only need two eggs, not six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we double the recipe?” the younger man asked. “I’m feeling cakey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but if we burn the place down I’m not talking to the landlord,” Jaime replied. “Next, we need a cup of milk…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes of Jaime reading the recipe and Bart adding a little more of each ingredient and the two taking turns to stir the batter, they put it into the oven that—thankfully—was preheated to the right temperature. Jaime leaned back on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, a small cloud hit him out of nowhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Qué–</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whipped his head around to a giggling Bart with his hand in the flour bag. Bart flicked another pinch at Jaime, this time landing in the older man’s dark hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime smiled. “Oh, it’s on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dipped his finger into the bag and dotted the tip of Bart’s nose with flour. Bart squealed, but before he could use his powers to get away, Jaime pulled Bart in, almost making their ingredients fall over. Bart squealed, and no doubt the neighbors would complain later but the couple didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bart turned his head and placed a soft kiss on Jaime’s lips. The older one closed his eyes to drink it all in, only for it to end abruptly by another fistful of flour on his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime gasped in mock offense. “No fair, you used my weakness against me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All’s fair in love and war, babe,” Bart teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In that case…” Jaime grabbed another handful of flour and threw it at his boyfriend. “Take that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time slowed down as Bart stopped to brush the flour out of his hair. Light streamed through the blinds right onto the speedster. Every freckle, every perfect square inch radiant like he was born from drops of sunlight. Jaime was vaguely aware of that one Elvis Presley slow song on the radio as he moved to help get the flour out of Bart’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>amor</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jaime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushed the white dust from Bart’s face with his thumb, uncovering the sky of rust-red stars. His hand moved from where it was down to Bart’s hip as he pulled them closer together. Bodies fitting perfectly, slowly swaying to the music, foreheads resting together. It wouldn’t be fair to say that the universe melted away because Jaime’s universe was right there, scarlet and gold, fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bart’s breath hitched. “Say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Amor</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I call you that all the time,” Jaime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. It’s crash. You’re crash and we’re crash and I love you but sometimes I’m scared that one day you’ll stop calling me all those things and–”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaime pressed his lips to Bart’s, effectively ceasing the anxiety spiral. It was chaste, tender. Lips lingering, as neither was willing to pull apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as I’m alive, I will never stop calling you that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mi conejito. Mi cariño. Mi amor. Mi alma. Mi cielo y estrellas. Mi todo en la vida.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bart giggled, hands draped around Jaime’s shoulders as they danced in little circles on the tile floor. “I don’t even know what half of those mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means I’m too in love with you to go anywhere else.”</span>
</p>
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